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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129753">dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananasarehellagay/pseuds/bananasarehellagay'>bananasarehellagay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, im not writing rpf fic theres just no dsmp tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Not Canon Compliant, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Thoughts, dream isn't an asshole but yanno, he is a bit in the beginning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananasarehellagay/pseuds/bananasarehellagay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you die for me?"<br/>"Again?"<br/>---<br/>Or where Wilbur comes to terms with being alive again, with a little help from an enemy.<br/>Based on a writing prompt where my mind went absolutely feral.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Wilbur Soot, platonic ya nasties</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is very much a drabble and not a full anything, but I hope you like it! as always, comments are lovely and i give platonic hugs/high fives to anyone who leaves one :]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Would you die for me?”</p><p>The wind rushed past his ears, bandaged hands gripping the cold railing with numb fingers. He almost didn't hear the question. The prisoner must've thought he hadn’t, as he moved closer and repeated the words.</p><p>“Would you die for me, Wilbur?”</p><p>Dream’s arms reached around his middle, tucking Wilbur’s thin form tight against the scratchy cotton of his jumpsuit. It wasn't a hug, more of a trap. <em> Oh come on now, we wouldn't want you to jump, now would we? </em>He shivered, but not from the cold. </p><p>“Again?” Wilbur’s voice rasped out, breathless and begging. </p><p>“Why not? You spent so much time there with your friends-”</p><p>“<em> Not </em> my friends-” He snarled.</p><p>Dream continued like he hadn't even heard him. Maybe he hadn't. “-What's a little bit more time? It'll be a fun experiment, to see if I can bring someone back twice.”</p><p>The rooftop of Pandora’s Box was cold, a wide expanse of black brick and netherite. The wind had picked up as the two of them had stood there, cutting clean through Wil’s sweater and trenchcoat. He wondered briefly how Dream was faring, but bodily shook the thought out of his head with a violent twitch in his neck. <em> He isn't even here, </em> he thought bitterly. <em> I don’t even know how I’m here, this must be a hallucination. A dream.  </em></p><p>It wouldn't be the first time he’d had a vision of a friend telling Wilbur to kill himself.</p><p>He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to be here. He definitely didn't want to go back just to be dragged here again. One experience with the overwhelming sound and brightness of living ripping his senses to shreds was <em> very much enough, thank you. </em> His grip tightened on the rail, and Dream stepped back. Wilbur didn't bother turning. </p><p>“Think about it.”</p><p>He didn't turn. But he somehow knew -not through any worldly sense, just an <em> absence </em>- that Dream was gone. Wilbur was alone again. He toyed with the thought of jumping for a moment before he was swept into oblivion once more.</p><p>-</p><p>“Would you die for me?”</p><p>They were in a forest this time- the forest. Pogtopia. Wilbur turned to face the caverns. <em> Could I reach it, like this? Would dream logic stop me? </em></p><p>“Would it look the way I remembered, if I went back while we’re here? Or would it be abandoned? Empty.” He spoke more to himself than Dream, smiling bitterly to himself. He only smiled wider when he heard his companion’s exasperated huff.</p><p>“I don't know? It's your dream Wilbur, how am I supposed to know what you’ll see?” He sounded upset, angry. Good. “Did you even hear my question?”</p><p>Wilbur waved his hand idly by his head, gesturing in loose circles. He started towards the entrance of the cave, fully expecting to not make it there before the dream ended, but grimly cheery at the concept of pissing Dream off more. “Yes, yes. Will you die for me, blah blah blah, you owe me for bringing you back even though you were perfectly content to stay dead, blah blah.” He drawled, dragging out the words with as much sarcasm as was humanly possible.</p><p>Dream hurried after him, having to look down at the ground to avoid the twisting roots of the old oaks. Wilbur’s long legs are up the distance with ease, muscle memory from the long walks he took to escape the caverns allowing him to pull ahead of the murderer. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets as Dream spoke again. </p><p>“So? Have you at least thought about it?” His voice was honey smooth. Pleading.</p><p>“Yup.” Wil popped the 'p’ of the word on it’s way out. It was a simple thing he'd found while talking with Schlatt. Either alive or dead, the politician had <em> hated </em> it when Wilbur did that. When he asked why, Schlatt had replied simply.</p><p>“<em> Shows you don't give a shit about what I’m saying, dickhead.” </em></p><p>And this was an instance where Wilbur indeed <em> did not care. </em> Dream didn't respond audibly to the slight, but the air around the two of them became tense. </p><p>“Are- are you gonna tell me what you think or not? Because if you aren't, I’ll be on my way.” The dripping sweetness was gone, leaving hard edges and a broken mind beneath it.</p><p>“Nah, I think I'll leave you in suspense. Makes for a better story, don't you think?” </p><p>Dream stopped walking. Wilbur continued on, the darkness creeping in from the edges to drag him awake once more.</p><p>-</p><p>“Would-” Dream’s voice was tired, filled with nails and a promise of violence. Wilbur cut him off swiftly.</p><p>“We both know the drill, you don't have to say it every goddamn time. Furthermore, why do you give a fuck? If I die again, it doesn't serve you at all! I'd just be dead, and you could revive me or not, it wouldn't get you out of your fucking cage!” Wilbur raged, turning to face Dream for the first time. He shimmered, phasing in and out of his armour, his “casual” clothes, and his prison jumpsuit. He looked beyond surprised that Wil had spoken, maybe even a bit scared.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“No, you can shut it, actually.” He ran a hand through his curls, glancing around him. He almost screamed at the sight of the van. “Why? Why do you keep bringing me to places I hate, that we both can't fucking stand?! None of this makes sense, unless you aren't controlling any of it! But-” Wilbur stopped short, processing his own words. He looked down at his hands. “You have to be controlling it. Right?”</p><p>He looked back up, and saw Dream in front of him again. He looked more solid in his prison garb. His mouth was tight, almost a solid line before he sighed and scrubbed at his face with a hand. “I don't know. Maybe I'm controlling it, maybe you are, maybe neither of us are. I don't know why I'm asking you. In the beginning it wasn't me? But it was? And now it's more me, but-”</p><p>“But it all feels scripted.” Wilbur finished.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Well this is a bit scuffed, isn't it?” He joked. Dream snorted, that wheezing laugh of his ringing softly in the small space.</p><p>“You could say that again.”</p><p>-</p><p>“I think it's tying us together because I brought you back.” Dream finished, the two of them sitting on the edge of the podium’s platform, complete with Schlatt’s thrones and Tubbo’s box. Wilbur looked out over the sunset.</p><p>“That's a bit shit, isn't it.” He murmured.</p><p>Dream nodded, just in view out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, but I get to be <em> out </em>, yanno? This is the only time where I see sky, and grass, and-”</p><p>“Oh, stop being such an environmentalist, Dream.” Wilbur scoffed, the edge taken off by the shared knowledge that he was only teasing. “It's fucking weird, being friendly with you.”</p><p>Dream tilted his head to the side, turning to face Wil. “How so? We used to be friends, before L’manburg. During Pogtopia, even.” He sounded… genuinely curious. Wilbur sighed.</p><p>“Because you brought me back.” He said, barely a breath. “Because you couldn't leave me there.”</p><p>“I'm sorry, Wilbur.”</p><p>“No you aren't.”</p><p>“...No. I'm not.”</p><p>They sat in silence, for a moment. The sun sank lower, bathing the festival decorations in swaths of amber and vermillion, gilding the edges in a warm light.</p><p>“I think I would.” Wilbur finally said.</p><p>“Would what?”</p><p>“Die for you. Again. I think I would.”</p><p>---</p>
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